


how sweet, the sound

by INMH



Series: Merry Month of Masturbation Fills (2020) [15]
Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Angst, Bathing/Washing, Bunker Ending (Far Cry), Drama, F/M, Masturbation, Masturbation in Shower, Merry Month of Masturbation Challenge, Sexual Content, Strong Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:27:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23786296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/INMH/pseuds/INMH
Summary: Bunker Ending. “I don’t intend to watch you.”
Relationships: Female Deputy | Judge/Joseph Seed
Series: Merry Month of Masturbation Fills (2020) [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1690234
Kudos: 33





	how sweet, the sound

The only shower in the bunker is in the hallway.  
  
Rook finds this disagreeable.  
  
“I don’t intend to watch you,” Joseph says, even though he’s handcuffed her to one of the showerheads and Rook has no way of enforcing this.  
  
She has no way of doing much of anything now.  
  
She’s not even sure she wants to, given that the world is gone.  
  
But Joseph clearly isn’t intent on letting her go quietly into the irradiated night. “I will go back into the bedroom,” he says calmly, placing a towel on a chair within reach of Rook’s uncuffed hand. “And I will sing. And you’ll be able to tell that I’m nowhere near you and cannot see you.” He cocks his head, looks her in the eyes. “Fair?”  
  
It’s less that Rook doesn’t trust him not to look at her, and more that Rook doesn’t trust how calm he is.  
  
She did kill his brothers, after all.  
  
“Fine,” She whispers, because it’s not like she has a choice.  
  
Joseph walks away, and Rook turns on the tap.  
  
She wrangles off the rest of her clothes, and that means her t-shirt is hanging on the cuffed arm while she showers. It’s coated in blood and grime from the crash, and Rook has to force her mind not to register it. She’s already done so much crying for her coworkers and everyone else she’s undoubtedly lost to the bombs, and she wants to stave off another crying jag for as long as she can.  
  
Washing with one hand is difficult. Scrubbing the grime off herself is difficult. Maneuvering with such a short length of cuff holding her in place is difficult. Keeping her balance is difficult.  
  
And somehow, it is all made even more difficult by Joseph singing.  
  
It’s faint, and Rook can tell that he’s actually gone into the bedroom instead of just singing quietly and staying nearby. But it’s still noticeable (that is the point, after all) and it still sends a shiver running through her. Knowing that Joseph is still close, knowing that he _could_ come look, knowing that he is singing that same God- _damned_ ‘Amazing Grace’ song that he had in the helicopter-  
  
( _that saved... a **wretch** … like me_)  
  
Rook shivers again, abruptly realizing that she had been scrubbing her breast and that it is only adding to the discomfort building in her.  
  
She’s fucked up and in flight-or-fight mode and the human body does all sorts of weird shit when it’s feeling threatened.  
  
_(No one’s coming to save you.)_  
  
Rook quickly looks over her shoulder.  
  
Joseph is not there.  
  
He is very obviously _not_ nearby because she can still hear him singing that song, and yet Rook still feels his eyes on her. She glances around for cameras and doesn’t see any, and that makes sense because why would Dutch put cameras in his own bunker? All over the island, sure, and probably one pointed at the bunker door, but if someone actually got inside the need for cameras was gone.  
  
Especially one pointed at the damn showering area.  
  
Joseph is not watching her.  
  
Rook knows that intellectually, but she still _feels_ it.  
  
Does it even matter if he watches? Because according to Joseph God is going to ‘salt the earth’ for seven years and they’re going to be spending every second of it alone together in this bunker with Joseph invading her space in so many different ways, too close and watching, always watching-  
  
Rook looks again; Joseph is still not looking.  
  
(Does it matter, though?)  
  
After a moment’s hesitation, she pushes the cloth between her thighs.  
  
The drag of the fabric over her clit makes her grit her teeth and spread her legs a little wider, trembling as pleasure rises in her stomach. Joseph is still singing but he could be watching, it _feels_ like he’s watching-  
  
_No_.  
  
Rook pulls her hand away and glances over her shoulder.  
  
No, Joseph is still not there.  
  
She’s aching, but forces herself to turn the tap off. The level of inappropriateness to what she’d just been doing is off the fucking charts.  
  
_He killed Dutch, you fucking **disgusting** freak._  
  
Rook yanks the towel off the chair, clumsily wraps it around anything she doesn’t want Joseph seeing (he will eventually, _seven years-_ )  
  
“I’m done,” She calls.  
  
The singing stops.  
  
She hears the footsteps coming, and turns to face the shower wall again, keeping her gaze on ‘ ~~don’t~~ drop the soap’ (oh, Dutch) even as Joseph is very clearly right behind her, gaze boring into Rook’s back.  
  
(He can look.  
  
She doesn’t have to.)  
  
“That wasn’t so hard, hm?”  
  
Rook shuts her eyes.  
  
( _was blind, but now I see._ )  
  
“Can I please get dressed now?”  
  
“Of course, Deputy.”  
  
-End


End file.
